A Game of Chess
by xaddictedx
Summary: It is a game of Chess, of eliminations and sacrifices. One must tread carefully, feed the assets and starve the liabilities. Everyone's a suspect, especially if your opponent is the Government... blood, murder, internal demons warning
1. One Pawn Down

**Hey everyone. Knowing me and my strange obsessions jumping every two months, I'm going to write a murder mystery. Lotsa fighting comin up!**

**I dont need to say that I dont own WITCH again, do I?**

**Oh yeah, I will be changing my penname to xaddictedx to match with my other screennames, M'kay? M'kay.**

"_Run away before you drown in this rain, honey…"_

She breathes, and obeyed the singing voice without question. She did not need to have any reason, all she knew was that she did not like the voice and she wants to get as far away as possible from it.

Come on. You can do this. Just pretend it's a game. The game you always used to play when you were a little girl. Just run.

"_You can't escape…"_

She was a natural runner, but it was still not fast enough… maybe it was the heavy down pour of rain that's wieghing her down. But then, her chaser was not running, so it would not be too bad if she ran…

"_You don't want to escape…"_

Yes, yes I do, she thought to herself. Her breath came in searing gasps, and her leg muscles were practically screaming in protest.

Keep going. Keep going. Don't look back. Don't look at that horrible face.

"_Where will you go?"_

The voice was singing no song, but rather a taunting tune… She despised the fact that humans were amongst the slowest mammals on Earth… She closed her eyes and wished that she was a cheetah.

There were so many things even cheetahs couldn't out run.

Like light.

And sound of a mechanical click.

And a bullet.

CRACK.

She breathes in, feeling the full impact of the wound. The bullet had driven in her thigh. She felt it tearing up her muscle tissues. There was no way she could run anymore.

The second bullet pierced her back, and judging from the sudden disappearance of pain, it was her spinal cord. She fell on her back, and stared at the rain-stricken sky. It was soon covered by a gleefully twisted face – her would-be killer. She braced herself for the end.

Oh god, please...

She soundlessly screamed her final prayers...

"_Another pawn down, honey."_

Another bullet came right in the face.

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Walking down the gap between two grimy apartment buildings was the person responsible for the young woman's death. He removed his hood to reveal a head of shaggy curled brown hair. He pocketed the small handgun and threw away the bullet shells.

He continued to walk down the gap with a purposeful stride. A car passed by in the rain; its headlights illuminated the killer's face. Multiple scars were shown, as well as a pair of brown eyes that was devoid of any emotion.

No remorse over what he just did less than five minutes ago.

His cell phone rang. He casually flipped open the cover.

"All is vell, I presume?" the speaker spoke in a strange accent.

"Yes." The killer's voice reflected his face well.

"You left no evidence?"

"None at all."

He snapped the phone shut. Knowing full well that he may not use the phone ever again if he wishes to be never found out, he carefully took out the SIM card and pocketed it. Then, expertly, he twisted the phone violently in half. It broke away with a satisfyingly loud snap.

The corners of his lips lifted as he tossed what remained of his phone into an overflowing dumpster to his left. Crinkling his nose to the acrid smell, a few words escaped his mouth.

"_Soon there will be a checkmate_…"


	2. You're Next

**Hey everyone! Okay, none of the statistics mentioned on here are based on real truth, I just made them up. Nor do I own the novel 'Sacred Cows'. M'kay? M'kay. The disclaimer is in the first chapter, blah blah blah.**

In all the years Taranee had been hired as a journalist for Heatherfield News, she had seen plenty of dead bodies being examined by police and doctors. Most of the ones she had seen were in crime scenes.

Taranee did some quick math in her head. She sees on average of five dead people a week, so that makes twenty a month and two hundred forty dead people in a year. She had been a journalist for four years, so that means she saw approximately nine hundred sixty in her career. Not counting the dead she saw in her Guardian days, of course.

Out of the nine hundred sixty, approximately forty percent died with their eyes open. Out of that forty, about sixty percent were shot. Out of _that_ sixty, only about three percent looks as though they've got a _very_ complicated story to tell, if they were alive.

This girl was one of them.

Deathly pale, her eyes were wide open with a bullet wound on her forehead, it was difficult to tell her expression. Shocked? Fearful? Resigned? Angry?

Taranee reached for her camera and took some quick shots for the newspaper. It was her job to get the truth behind these kinds of things. She put away the camera, took out her notepad, and hovered just outside the neon yellow "do not cross" line. She stopped a burly looking policeman.

"Hi, I'm with the Heatherfield News… could you share some information about this shooting with us?" Taranee asked politely in the persuading voice that took her two years to perfect. The police scratched his head.

"I'm sorry ma'am, but we are not authorized to give out any information about the victim."

I didn't necessarily _ask_ about the victim, Taranee thought irritably.

"What would you say might've killed her? Do you have any leads to who her killer is?" she chirped.

"Any of the wounds could've caused her death, but we think the shot in the head was the way it killed her, because it was the quickest. Both the wound in the thigh and the spinal cord would need time for it to kill a person."

Taranee jotted it down, "Did the murderer leave any evidence behind?"

"We've searched for it pretty thoroughly, but the only thing we found are some bullet shells in the next alley. We've dusted for finger prints, and they are being analyzed right now. It seems like the rain last night washed away nearly all the evidence."

"Interesting…" Taranee murmured, still scribbling as fast as she can.

The officer left. Another officer yelled for Taranee and the other reporters to "get the hell off the crime scene before I arrest you all for loitering". Not that Taranee wanted to stay in this bloody picture anyway. She turned tail, and whipped out her blackberry to send what she got down to her boss, as well as several of the pictures she took. Her boss' message came back with a "have your self a day off – nothing's happening today other than that murder," which Taranee gladly obeyed.

But still the dead girl's face lingered in her mind…

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Taranee was _bored_. A day off. Most people would rejoice at that idea, but for Taranee, it is condemning her to a whole day of boredom. She had nothing to do. So she did some math.

Maybe it was the dead girl's haunting stare, but she had a gaping feeling in her stomach that maybe someday, she might be reporting the death of one of her friends instead of some person she doesn't know about. Maybe it's because the girl's age are about equal to hers…

Either way, she did some calculations.

Heatherfield is a city of about thirty thousand people. If the birth rate is twelve children per day, and the death rate is three people per day, immigrants increases by three people per week and the emigrants are about four people per week, and there are on average of twenty dead people in one week (Taranee only sees the ones that are murdered), there is a chance of her someday reporting her friend's deaths.

Taranee shivered. She really couldn't imagine looking at any of her friends like that, on the sidewalk somewhere, maybe with blood coming out of their heads. It would be too over-whelming.

Tapping her pen, she decided to call her best friend. Grabbing her cell phone, she scrolled down her long list of contacts until it landed on Will. While the phone rang, Taranee decided to get herself a snack. Getting up from the breakfast nook, she walked to the fridge and stared at its sheer emptiness…

Before she remembered she didn't do the groceries yet.

"Aw, shit…"

"What was that?" Will's voice came from the phone.

"Oh yeah, sorry about that, I just opened the fridge to find it empty. I have a day off today because nothing is happening in the city. What are you doing?"

"Me? I'm not doing anything particular… I gave some sick chickadee some bird medicine and that was the highlight of this week. All the animals are only here for a check up and they're all healthy."

Will was a vet, a very good one at that. In fact, the only other person in Heatherfield who could beat her was Mr. Olsen, Will's fiancé's grandpa.

"Well, you can't say that's bad…" Taranee said matter of factly.

"Yea, that's true. Hey, did you see the news? Of that dead girl? She looks familiar, doesn't she?"

"Will, of _course_ I saw the dead girl, I report it," Taranee snorted (_**very**__ lady-like, Tara,_she thought, _very lady like_).

"Oh yeah, sorry. Stupid question. Anyway, doesn't she look familiar?"

"Now that you think about it… yeah… I took some pictures. She looks like that girl we used to go to school with, hmm?"

"Yeah. What was her name again? Starts with a 'V'?"

V. Taranee ran over the letter in her mind. There's Valerie from work, but she didn't go to Sheffield and she was definitely alive. There's also Verity from her old basketball team, but she did not look like the dead girl. Verity had blonde hair, and the dead girl's hair was definitely brown. And obviously Vincent is out because he is a guy.

"I don't know, she was mostly Irma's friend, remember?"

"I don't know. But I don't think we should get involved with this whole thing. Did you hear about what the killer would do to you if you got involved?" Taranee squeaked.

"Were you watching scary movies last night?"

Taranee panicked.

"HOW DID YOU KNOW?"

"I'm your best friend, Taranee," Will sounded both amused and exasperated, "I could always tell. Normally after you watch scary movies, you freak out about things like this. Anyway, I'm closing the clinic in a few minutes. Want to grab a pizza?"

Taranee breathed out. Will was just kidding with her.

"Sure, sure, that would be great."

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The door closed with a snap. Taranee re-entered her house with some books (from the library) and a bad breath from the pizza in tow. Throwing her coat onto the couch without really caring about the wrinkles in the fabric, she turned on the light and collapsed on the couch. She pulled a book that she took out from the library from her bag and started to read.

_Sacred Cows. _

Funny title, Taranee chuckled. It fits too – there was a picture of a toy cow on the cover.

Taranee read the first few paragraphs, immediately drawn to the book. It was strange how… well, she doesn't know, but the book was giving her deja vu.

She turned the page.

But other from the rustling of the paper, Taranee heard something else. There was a squeaking sound from the other side of the room.

Assuming Peter or one of the girls came over to visit, Taranee casually yelled "Come in!" without taking her eyes off the book. It was very interesting.

When no voices answered her, Taranee put the book down on the coffee table with a disgruntled grunt. She got up, stretched a bit, and grabbed a broom from the hallway closet, ready to beat the shit out of any annoying rats mice that are infesting her home. Either that or chase it out of there, both will work. After circling the house two times and finding no rats (or mice), Taranee's inborn paranoia began to settle in. Just to be sure, she set up some mouse traps just in case. She sank back into the sofa, and picked up her book. By then she was laughing at herself for being scared over such a tiny thing like a noise.

She had just finished reading two sentences when the light spluttered and died.

Of course, being Taranee, she could conjure fire and all. Even with that power, the power failure was a massive inconvenience. Putting down her book, she picked up a scented candle that was conveniently lying on the coffee table and lighted it with a snap of her fingers.

Collecting candles had been a recent hobby of Taranee's, and her house was filled with them. Her friends had taken to joking about how Taranee will never need to purchase a Febreeze air freshener because her candles will mask out every kind of odeur known to man (and several known to monkeys).

They've also said collecting stuff was a bit pointless and useless. Well, this proved them wrong. Taranee could not help but smirk slightly.

She peered out of the window to see if everyone's houses were dimmed.

"That's strange…"

Her house appears to be the only one without power.

Putting the candle in a small cup, she held it up over her head so that the light illuminated the entire room. The small prickle of light created long, spidery shadows on the walls. Taranee shuddered. It was pretty intimidating.

She used the candle to guide herself to the kitchen cupboard, and got herself a bigger candle. She lit that one by touching the tip of her finger gently to the string, and extinguished the smaller candle. Putting the bigger candle in a saucer so that the melted wax would not destroy her furniture, she picked up her book again, and turned to where she left off.

Then she heard a crackling sound followed by a popping sound coming from the basement.

Probably another mouse or something, Taranee thought as she half groped away toward the basement to check. She fumbled with the door handle for a bit (considering it was still rather dark), and was met by an explosion of bright orange light and heat. Frowning, she walked down the squeaky stairs to see what was the cause of the sound, light and heat.

The electricity box and anything within the one meter radius was on fire!

Any other person would've panicked, ran upstairs and gotten the fire extinguisher. Taranee however, simply groaned and lifted her hands. Of course, fire was her element; her friend.

Taranee's hands glowed momentarily orange, and the fire died, leaving the basement once again in complete darkness except for the glowing candle. Picking up the candle saucer, she made her way closer to the electricity box to examine what was wrong with it.

The box's latch was open (melted, by the looks of it), and the door was hanging off its hinge. The cable and wires were all broken, and they were spitting out dangerous looking sparks. There were a couple of cardboard boxes lying around, so that might've ignited the fire.

So that means she's going to have to pay the repairmen that she needs to call.

Taranee coughed on the lingering smoke, and leaned in closer to investigate.

She was no detective, but it didn't take a genius to see that the wires didn't break by themselves…

Someone had cut them intentionally.

Taranee jumped back as though she had received a huge electrical shock (although it could be possible if she did). If someone had cut the wires, it means they must've been in her basement, which means they were _in her house_! Taking a few deep breaths, she ran a list of people who has access to her house and backdoor through her mind.

There were the girls, but they would _never_ do anything like that. Same goes to her family and Nigel. There were Luke and Sheila… but Luke is one of the teachers at the dance academy now, and he works very late. Sheila and her dad is once again on some sort of Karmilla tour, so she wouldn't be able to come anyway if Taranee begged her. Besides, none of these people would be so mean as to cut off the wires and set Taranee's house on fire, that's ridiculous…

Taranee moved all things flammable away from the electricity box and went back upstairs with her candle. She would have to worry about it later. She made her way to the couch where her book was waiting to be read, and settled down on the couch, flipping through the pages.

That's when she noticed the writing on the windows.

_Sacred Cows_ was dropped for the fourth time that night as Taranee stared at the window.

There, backwards but distinguishable, were a few words dripping with red ink that made the fire-caster's blood run stone cold.

_You're next, honey._


	3. De ja vu

**Heyo! New update!**

Irma's least favorite part of the day – the subway.

Sitting alone in a room full of strangers is nothing, but standing in an unstable subway car with fifty or so people crammed in with you without an source of entertainment is plain _torture_.

The train stopped. A fat man who was taking up two seats at once got up and left, and immediately there was a game of musical chairs going on. It was during the rush hours when the uptight Heatherfield citizens lose all sense of integrity, generosity and honor.

Irma fought through two business women and a slinky gold digger to get to that seat. Her feet were _murdering_ her; it was throbbing painfully from the effort to stay on balance in the swaying subway. She settled in the seat and made herself comfortable, smirking at the many failed passengers who did not get the seat.

After a while, the smug feeling faded away and was replaced by the ho-hum of the subway. Irma glanced around for something to entertain herself, and realized that she was sitting on a piece of newspaper. She pulled it out from under her with difficulty, and inspected it for any signs of germs. When she found none, she opened it and flipped to the front page.

_25 Year Old Murdered, No Leads Found_

Irma looked curiously at the photograph below the heading. There was a headshot of a woman with a bullet wound in her head. Irma gazed at the brown hair green eyed woman with a strange realization feeling rising in the back of her head.

_Hmmm... She looks familiar_, Irma thought. She began to read the article.

_A 25 year old was shot in the head at about 1 am in the morning today. The police has yet to identify the body and the killer have not been found. She was found by the Almond Avenue by a passer by, who will remain unnamed._

"_The most baffling thing about this case is that the killer has left nearly no evidence. No fingerprints, hair samples, footprints, nothing. There are not much this investigation could go on," said Detective McDonald, "All we know that he is a talented gunman."_

_The victim was killed instantly by the bullet in the forehead, which pierced through her brain. A detailed examination of her autopsy revealed that the killer was most definitely aiming to kill, as the two other bullets that struck the victim were in a main artery in the legs; and one directly on the spinal cord._

_The rumors of the recent murders are by the 'Assassins Alliance' are yet to be confirmed._

Irma stared. There was so much blood on this article. She closed up the newspaper and looked up, only to find that she missed her station.

"Dammit…"

Cursing softly, she squeezed out of the subway the very next station. She could've easily switched trains, but changed her mind after searching through her pockets and bags and finding no extra money.

Grumbling, Irma bundled up against the chilly night air and started to walk to the apartment that she is sharing with her best friend (because none of their jobs pays enough for them to rent separately). Irma was a part-time receptionist while she hands out resumes and Hay Lin was still getting her masters degree (who knew it had to take five years?). So basically it was just a temporary thing until they get their lives straightened out.

With nothing to do except to stare at the passing people while she was walking back home, Irma stared openly. She always found it funny that people on the streets would straighten up and try to look uncaring whenever they find somebody looking at them. After snickering silently at a punk girl and a walking Barbie doll, Irma got tired of her game and opted for a nicer way to entertain herself.

It is called _imagination._

Okay, let's try this, Irma thought. I am…on a beach. The sun is shining, I have vanilla fudge ice cream with me, and a hot lifeguard just asked me for a number.

Irma pretended that the wooshing of cars was actually the waves from the ocean, the pavement was the sand (who cares how hard it is), and the furtive footsteps behind her were actually…

Irma snapped out of her reverie. She glanced backwards, but she saw nothing but some girl who was waiting for the bus at the bus stop. No one else was on the street except for her, so where did the footsteps come from?

Probably some dude who turned at the cornerIrma thought uncertainly.

Turning back to the direction she was going, Irma can just see the top of the apartment building she inhabits shadowed by the darkened sky. With the thought of food in mind, Irma sprinted the rest of the way to the building. The grumbling stomach only encouraged her to go faster.

After climbing what seemed to be an endless flight of stairs to her floor, she fumbled with her keys to get the right one into the lock. She opened the door, panting, to see Hay Lin sprawled across the sofa watching a _South Park _rerun on TV.

She turned around when Irma entered, stifling a laugh at Irma's bedraggled appearance.

"About time you came back. I was going to report you missing." She quipped.

"Shut… up…" Irma wheezed, jogging towards the kitchen and opening the freezer to get out a microwavable dinner, and pouring herself a cola.

"You do know that it's ten thirty right now, right?"

Irma choked on her drink.

"WHAT?" she yelp. She got out of the subway at about eight thirty, and it took her _two hours_ to walk back home? That was insane.

"If it wasn't ten thirty, _South Park_ wouldn't be on." Hay Lin said, pointing to the TV.

Irma yawned, "No wonder I'm so tired."

Irma was just starting her dinner that she left very late when the phone in her apartment started ringing loudly. Not wanting to leave her delicious plate of pasta, she told Hay Lin to get the phone. With that done, Irma continued to attack her dinner with indecent enthusiasm.

Irma had a good reason to completely disregard table manners, if she had any in the first place. This morning she had woken up fifteen minutes late, so in her rush to get to the office on time, she had to skip breakfast. Irma was hoping to catch up on breakfast during lunch time, but when she poked through her lunch bag hopefully, there were nothing in there except for a container of celery. Like that would've filled her bottomless stomach. Irma hated celery anyway.

So as soon as the dismissal time arrived, Irma picked up whatever work she still needed to do and left the office in a hurry so that not a second was wasted between her and her dinner.

Of course then she missed her station and had to walk _two hours_ back home.

Irma have not changed much over the years. She still loved sweets and long baths, and was the same scatterbrained, chatty, tardy self. Of all of her friends, perhaps Irma was the one that changed the least. Perhaps.

"Hello?" Irma could hear Hay Lin say flatly into the phone from the living room. The answer came as loud as a bell…

"Oh thank god, I've called Will and Cornelia but they're both god knows where…Listen, you've got to come to my place, _now,_" Taranee sounded shaky and frightened.

"Wah- 'appene?" Irma asked, not able to pronounce the words properly because of her packed mouth.

"Irma wants to know what happened." Hay Lin translated for Taranee.

"I received a threat…"

Irma gulped down her food with difficulty. Memories of when Taranee last received a threat came flooding into her mind. Although the general outcome was triumphant, the situation was not very happy. Hay Lin seemed to be thinking along the same lines.

"Is it Frost again?" she asked, while Irma reluctantly abandoned her half-eaten dinner to join in on the couch as to listen better.

"How am I supposed to know? All I know is that I was reading, then suddenly those words popped up! You come and see for yourself…I'm scared of being here all by myself…"

"Okay, okay, we're coming. Tell us everything once we get there." Irma spoke into the speaker of what she hoped was a comforting voice. She hung up, and went back to her dinner so she could at least finish it before heading to Taranee's.

"You have never heard of table manners, have you?" Hay Lin yelled to Irma from the living room. She was watching the TV again while waiting for Irma to finish.

"Wu te fuu ar tawol bannersh?" Irma asked sarcastically with her mouth still full.

A few minutes later, Irma and Hay Lin arrived at Taranee's house to find Taranee waiting for them on the porch with a nervous manner similar to when Taranee first discovered her powers over fire. Taranee glanced around furtively before pointing to her living room window. Irma leaned in to read the words in the dim candle light.

_You're next, honey._

It didn't make any sense. Of course, nothing _really_ makes sense to Irma, but she still liked to pretend. Taranee looked freaked out beyond control.

"Uh… I can call my dad and ask him to investigate this…" Irma offered, sympathetic at Taranee's terror.

"T-thanks, but I think this is too trivial for the police force to handle… It could be a prank from some kid in the neighborhood, but listen to this…" Taranee opened the door to her house and ushered Irma and Hay Lin inside. She lit a few more candles to give them more light.

Irma shivered. The candles gave this whole place a feeling of something… _witchy_. Like something out of an ancient ritual. Taranee closed the curtain to block out the horrible words and the silhouette of her closing them was making them all shiver despite the heat the candles were giving out.

They all exchanged nervous glances.

"There was a fire in the basement. It wasn't me who caused it, but before I saw the words, I went down to the basement and – you know the electricity box?"

Irma nodded vigorously. Taranee continued.

"All the wires were cut by someone, and that sparked the fire. That means someone was _in my house_ without me knowing."

Silence followed this pronouncement. Visions of the past horror movies flashed in Irma's mind. Having someone in your house without you knowing is the third scariest thing after having a psychopath chase after you and having zombies in your house.

"Well…" Hay Lin started, "It could be Nigel's older brother Danny…"

Irma considered the probability.

"It is possible… he could've stolen Nigel's keys. Remember when he spray painted your mom's car?" Irma agreed, remembering what happened when they were fifteen.

"Yes, but to have a repeat performance? That just doesn't sound like him…" Taranee frowned, "Plus, he hasn't done anything to me for what, ten years?"

Irma frowned, and thought of a question that her dad usually asks in a break in crime scene.

"Who else have access to your house?"

"You guys, Peter, mom and dad, Nigel, Luke, and Sheila…"

"Uhum…"

A sudden thought sparked through Irma's mind. She thought of the words painted on the window.

_No_, Irma thought, _no it can't happen, it's impossible…_

She looked up to see a freaked out Taranee and a bemused Hay Lin.

"Got any ideas?" Taranee asked.

Irma debated with herself if she should tell them what was going through her head now, and decided against it. She didn't know how to explain it, but somehow… she didn't even _want_ to explain it.

"Nope."

**Wow. Interesting, this, isn't it? Someone's following Irma and someone tried to burn down Taranee's house (lousy attempt, but it has its merits)! And where are Will and Cornelia? What is this hunch Irma's got? Keep reading!**

**Oh wow, that sounded like a commercial XD.**

**(and review)**


	4. Mint Green Eyes

**Hey, I've got a chappie. I will not and probably never will own WITCH, and yeah…**

He did not know what happened, and did not want to _think_ about what happened

But here he was, bound by moldy ropes and gagged by some filthy black material that smelled suspiciously like fried fish. To make matters worse, he was in a room with no windows, no light, and is basically clueless about this whole situation. But still…

There was no escape from thinking, for an average human thinks every nanosecond of the day. Or, at least, have some sort of brain activity, not counting the times you sleep.

That thought was not very comforting. He cursed his brain for thinking that, and it's ability to store all sorts of random useless facts. Muttering silent curse words, he shuffled and squirmed, hoping that with some luck, he would be able to break free out of the itchy ropes that was keeping him stationary on this square of floor.

No avail. He still stayed on that square.

Curse this square.

Just as he was sarcastically congratulating himself silently on his rotten luck, the door (that seemed to him to be appeared out of nowhere through the utter darkness) opened and a band of light appeared. It lit up the floating bit of dust and rust, and the light flickered as a figure walked into the room, shutting the door behind him or her.

"Making yourself comfortable?"

The voice sounded decidedly feminine and familiar. He struggled with the material that was preventing his speech, and uttered a barely articulate 'damn you'. The woman laughed.

"Okay, okay, I'll remove that thing." She bent down and removed the fried fish gag. He tried to get a good look at her face, but it was obscured completely by an over large hood. He did caught a glimpse of straight brown hair, but that could be anyone.

He sucked at the air greedily, eager for _non-fish smelling air,_ only to cough violently after swallowing a lot of dust. It was still better than the fishy stuff.

"Yeah, I never liked the fish smell either." The woman said, as he continued to gag.

He was not scared as a person in his situation should be, but extremely annoyed. There were no objects to threaten his life present in this room, save for that woman. The chances for this lady strangle him with her bare hands seems decidedly slim. He was choking on the dust bad enough anyway, so he did not need anyone's help to cut off his air supply.

"Now. I don't intend to hurt anyone, but I'm only going to ask you this question once."

He was too busy coughing to pay much attention or spare any emotions for her.

"I'm talking to you Tubbs, have the courtesy to look that the person, goddamn it."

Martin finished coughing, and glared at the woman. This woman apparently knows him, and that just about ruled out holding him hostage for a ransom. And she was interrogating him, so that means she captured him on information about someone he knows…?

"Why the hell do you want me for?" he managed to spat out.

"Funny. Normally they ask who I am or what do I want, I'll give you points for originality, although I would've given you more points if you had yelled something along the lines of 'LOOK THE CHESSMEN HAVE COME ALIVE AND ARE ATTACKING!' or something…"

Martin blinked. Either this woman was going through her mid life crisis, or she's relatively young. _Chessmen?_

That just about ruled her out of being with the government, as they tend to be more 'official' and strict. Besides, the place they kept him in was a rat hole anyway, and you'd expect the government to have something fancier.

"Joking aside. I shall make it clear to you now that there is very little chance of escape from us. This entire building is soundproof, so no noise can get in, or out."

That would explain why it was so quiet.

"We're not going to ask much from you."

Great.

"But we are certainly not going to let you go once we're finished."

_What?_

"WHAT?" the word burst out of his mouth. The girl shrugged.

"You should know this. Typical villain - bad guy stuff. We hold you hostage anyway to make you suffer."

"You people are sick," he spat.

"Thank you. Enjoy your stay."

With a mock little bow, the woman left the room, closing the door with a thump behind her so that Martin was once again shrouded in darkness. Wondering vaguely why they gagged him when the place was sound proof, he wiggled some more with hopes of the ropes might loosen.

He scratched his wrists. They were starting to itch. It was a bit lucky that the rope was just a rope, because it started to fray as soon as he picked at it with his fingernails.

It wasn't enough, though.

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"What's her name?" Cornelia asked a passing forensics investigator. And as usual, nobody answered. Cornelia sighed, following them into the room which held the body. Nobody said anything about aiding the examination of dead bodies with a doctor when she decided to be a nurse. Sure, she had to dissect a couple of cadavers in university – which was an utterly horrifying experience – but she had thought that was the end of it. Well, other than helping the doctors do some surgery, but the person involved were normally alive, so it wasn't that bad… as long as she handed them the right equipment and _try _not to look at the blood.

Besides, normally she didn't even know who the patient was. It eases her a little.

Peering around the doctor, Cornelia saw the dead girl they were supposed to be examining. She saw a pair of sneakers. Then aqua blue track pants as the doctor shifted. Edging around to get a better view, she saw a matching blue t-shirt and honey coloured hair.

But the eyes – they were the most remarkable bit.

First of all, they were open. Dead people's eyes are generally closed. Second of all, they didn't really look lifeless, like they should be. It still contained some emotion. Third of all, they were mint green.

_Do I know this girl?_ Asked Cornelia inwardly. Cornelia remembers people by their interesting outward appearances, and she vaguely remembered that someone she knew had mint green eyes…

Shaking off the feeling, she assisted the doctor by running a search on the city's database on the number of people that went missing. There wasn't much selection, because there were not much people who had only gone missing last night. Especially with mint green eyes.

There was a girl with dark brown hair and mossy eyes. Nope. There was another with auburn hair streaked with gray and blue-green eyes. Too old. Sighing, she informed the forensics people of this.

"Are you sure?" one of them asked.

"Yeah I'm sure. Look for yourself if you don't believe – hang on…"

Her cell phone blared out unexpectedly. She fished it out of her pocked, pressed end, and continued.

"There's Melissa Peasgood, but her hair and eye colour are much too dark. Jaqueline Perks is much too old to be this girl…"

The forensic person nodded, and returned to swabbing the girl's fingernails for DNA in case she fought with her murderer.

It's a sick thing to do, thought Cornelia, just to kill someone, end their life like that with no regrets or anything… she shivered.

"You okay, Miss Hale?" Annie Seymour, her co-nurse, asked.

"Yeah… it's just… I think I know this girl… but I can't place who she is…"

Annie cockeyed her head and squinted. Cornelia knew from two years of working with her that she was trying to figure something out.

"Tell you what. How bout you go home? I'll cover for you. Who knows? Maybe you can remember who she is and be a great use to the Heatherfield police force…"

Cornelia nodded. She knew that Annie was dating a police officer and helping them was high on her priority list. She didn't object – getting out of the job, for whatever reason, was _always_ a definite yes in Cornelia's book.

Once outside the hospital, Cornelia thought of everyone she knew who has green eyes while she walked back to her apartment.

First there was Harry Potter. Of course he is a fictional character and will not or ever be real, and plus he is not a girl. There was Ellen from summer camp, but Cornelia was sure that her hair was red. And there was Danny from college, but obviously he is not a girl, unless he had a sex exchange. Cornelia shivered at that thought.

There was also Vi –

A rumble of thunder can be heard overhead, breaking Cornelia's chain of thoughts. Cornelia felt the raindrops and sprinted into her apartment building, shivering slightly. Poking the elevator button, she continued to shiver.

Once inside her apartment, she towel dried her hair and saw that the answering machine was blinking, which meant there was new messages. She pressed on the red 'play' button. The first message was something about a soccer team (which Cornelia didn't really care about), and the second one was from Taranee. She sounded slightly frantic, which got Cornelia's attention at once.

"Cornelia? Okay, whenever you have time, stop by my house. You've got to see this."

Wondering vaguely what Taranee wants and what made her so frantic, Cornelia decided to go and check it out. One glance towards the window changed her mind completely. It was a monstrous downpour.

_Eh… never mind. Note to self – get that drivers' license renewed_.

Cornelia never got her driver's license renewed because she never really found the real use for a car. The workplace was only three blocks away and the mall was right across the street. Her friends' houses can be reached by subway, even with its' annoying rush hour jams.

But now that they were being treated with buckets of rain, even walking over to the subway station would be a great, _great _accomplishment.

Cornelia sighed, and picked up the receiver to call Taranee back.

_Beeeeeeep_

_What the hell?_

The lights died. She came to the conclusion that the beep was from her microwave alerting her that the power died. Cornelia squinted through the power failure, trying to find some sort of light. And she did – some glow-in-the-dark stars that was laying in a glass case on the other side of the room.

Navigating through furniture, Cornelia grabbed the glow in the dark stars and used them as a flashlight to find where she kept her stash of glow sticks. She always liked to keep some of them in case there was a stray party going on. Cornelia always liked to have glow sticks at parties.

She ripped the wrapper off of one of the glow sticks, snapped it and bent it, and immediately it turned to a neon green colour. It was rather large, and Cornelia closed the box, pushed it back onto her bookshelf, and shook the glow stick to mix the chemicals more. It was glowing brighter due to age.

Cornelia sighed, and scratched her still damp head. Looking outside, she saw that the storm had turned the sky _green_.

Nearly the colour of the dead girl's eyes…

**I dont own Harry Potter either... XD. And see that Annie Seymour person? She was a reference to the book 'Sacred Cows', which was mentioned in the first chapter. **

**Cookie goes to the person who can guess who the green eyed girl is **


	5. The 'V' Riddle

**Lame, lame, LAME! Damnit, me! Why are you so unproductive?! **

**How long since I've written anything? Five, ten months? Argh. Okay. This chapter is absolute CRAP. It's very incoherent because it's pieced together from the various copies I had of it lying over my memory cards and stuff. That is why it is so long. So why am I posting? Because it's the best I can do at the moment. I had to work hard to avoid making my 'random characters' taking over the thing. **

**So here you go... ten something months in the making... all I can give you is a crappy chapter.**

Hay Lin yawned, as the sunlight blasted her full in the face. Feeling around from a blanket to block out the devil that was the sun, she unwillingly cracked open her eyes.

_Urgh… what time is it?_

Failing to find to a blanket to block out the sun, she realized that she didn't have one. She turned on her side, and fell painfully on her side on the carpeted floor. It was carpeted, but it still hurt like hell.

It took Hay Lin a while to remember that both she and Irma spent all night at Taranee's house, musing about the strange writing on the window and the cut wires. She had fallen asleep at about five am on the sofa. Well, now she was on the floor, grinding her teeth and rubbing her side.

Irma's upside down face appeared in Hay Lin's view of the sun splashed ceiling.

"Good morning sunshine!" she said cheerily.

"Don't… talk… about the sun…" Hay Lin hissed, flipping around so that she was facing the brown carpet instead of the blinding white ceiling. It was weird. It was raining last night, and now the sun is shining like crazy.

"Come on, get up. We're all waiting for you." Irma reached down and pulled on Hay Lin's arm. Hay Lin cursed her small frame, because Irma pulled her up in about a nanosecond.

"What? We went to sleep at _five freaking am_! Surely it is excusable to sleep a little late!" she argued, trying to plop back onto the sofa but failing miserably.

"It's Noon, hon. Seven hours of sleep is enough for you."

_That explains the intense sunshine…_

Blinking through the sleepy haze, she noticed that the rest of the girls were all there, barely containing their laughs. Looking at her own reflection in the window, Hay Lin admitted that she _did _look pretty funny. Messed up hair and still wearing yesterday's clothes.

"Hey, where did the writing go?" she ask. The writing on the window wasn't there anymore.

"Yeah, I washed it off. Can't have the neighbors see that. They'll think I'm nuts." Taranee said, getting up and walking to the kitchen.

Hay Lin was sure there was a 'you mean you're not crazy already?' crack somewhere, but didn't say it due to a sleep deprived mind, and not to be mean.

"Yeah, so, have any ideas on who wrote that yet?" she asked. Everyone shrugged.

"Not much," Will said, fingering the rim of her teacup, "But I've got an idea about who the dead girl in the news was."

"What dead girl?" Hay Lin asked stupidly. She never read the newspapers, and Phobos would be giving out candies the day she decides to watch the news over _Medium_. Not that she didn't care about current events, it's just that if it was really important, Taranee the reporter would tell her about it.

But then, if Phobos was giving out candies, the first thing she'd want to do is to get them checked for poison.

"This girl got shot in the head by Almond Street the day before yesterday," Taranee called from the kitchen.

"Yeah, they were examining her autopsy. She looks like someone we know…" Cornelia added, swirling the contents of her teacup around.

"Yeah, that's what I was thinking too. I have some pictures I took from the crime scene, so we can see if she matches anyone in our yearbook." Taranee returned from the kitchen with fresh tea and some brownies.

"Oh, that's interesting…" Hay Lin murmured, accepting a cup of tea from Taranee.

"We know that her name starts with a V." Taranee said, poking through her briefcase for the photos. She got them and placed them on her coffee table.

"My co-workers sent me this e-mail saying that she was carrying a driver's license in her knapsack, but there was a bullet hole through it or something, so most of the name was cut off, except for the first letter. It looked like that when the first bullet shot the knapsack, she dropped it and continued running, because it was found on the other side of Almond street…"

Hay Lin craned her neck to look at the photos. It showed an athletic looking girl with amber-brown hair and light green eyes with a bullet wound on her forehead. What was remarkable was that her eyes didn't remotely look dead, despite the obvious fact that she _is._

"She looks like…" she frowned, trying to remember where she had seen the vaguely familiar face before.

"We're just thinking of girls whose names starts with a V." Cornelia informed her.

"So far we've got Valerie, Verity, Victoria and Vinny." Will said, ticking them off on her finger, "But none of them actually fit the person…"

"What about Viranda?" Hay Lin asked, digging deep into her brain for a name that starts with a V. There wasn't many. She was sure she saw that name in her yearbook before.

"Who?"

"Someone who we went to the same school together… I think I saw her name in the yearbook before…"she mused. The more she thought about it, the more it made sense. Why couldn't it be Viranda? Sure, she doesn't think she ever actually talked to Viranda, but that explains why they couldn't pin down who the dead girl was.

"Yeah, I've definitely seen the name Viranda somewhere. Maybe it's her." Irma nodded.

Everyone fell into a deep silence, thinking. It was broken by a loud beeping noise from Irma's jacket. Irma reached inside to pull out her cell phone, flipped the cover open, put it to her ear and swore loudly.

"They didn't tell me I had to work on Saturdays!" Irma howled into her phone. Everyone turned, watching the show. Hay Lin knew by heart that Irma has the most interesting phone conversations with her co-workers.

"Really? It is? Must've dozed off…" Irma responded to the invisible voice from the phone that only she can hear.

"I know I'm a receptionist… but… _Saturdays_…" her annoyed tone changed to whiny.

"There's a line? Yeah, I know Clara sucks at this … okay, I'll come…" Irma pressed end, and sighed sadly.

"I've got to go to work. Sira said something about a lot of people piling up the entrance, Clara having PMS and being bitchy to everyone, or something," Irma sighed again, "I hate work."

"Better start handing out the resumes, then," Cornelia smirked.

"I am! But…"

"You're the world's best procrastinator," Hay Lin finished for her, "Come on, look on the bright side!"

"Yeah, at least I don't have to sit through the rush hour today…" Irma's expression lifted. She grabbed her jacket, checked her reflection in the hallway mirror, grabbed a brownie from the plate and slouched out the door.

"Bye guys! Expect me to ramble about how bitchy Clara was at work when I get home!" she yelled.

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Hay Lin's eyes skimmed over her book shelf. It was _very_ unorganized. In fact, her book shelf was worse than any of the other girl's book shelf. Taranee was neat, and Cornelia organizes her book shelf with her powers everyday. Will doesn't really have a book shelf, she just throw everything in a wicker basket under her coffee table. Irma never felt the need to touch her books, so they just lay there, collecting dust. Literally.

Hay Lin once went there to borrow a magazine to get ideas for a project, and had to wipe off about two millimeters of dust off the covers before she could read the titles.

Hay Lin has a habit of half reading a book, and just putting it back down, hence causing the disorder. Most of her books are comic books anyway. Occasionally there was an encyclopedia, or a 'how to draw ' thingy that she reads once and never touches again.

_How to Draw Landscapes  
_

Wow, that was old. She still had it? That book was utter crap. Note to self, she thought, never buy books from Amazon again.

_Witch_

She doesn't even remember that one.

_TV Guide_

Now how did that end up in the book shelf?

_Harry Potter and the – _

Nope.

_Enchantress From the Stars_

Good book, but no.

_The Other Side of Evil_

Also a nice book, but not the one.

_The Supernaturalists_

Such sad ending… no.

_South Park – Bigger Longer and Uncut_

When the hell did she buy this? She doesn't even remember it. Maybe Irma did and put it there as a joke.

_Sheffield Institute 2004 – 05_

Bingo. She took the yearbook down from where it was lying, careful not to disturb any other books as to avoid an avalanche. Sitting down cross legged on her bed, she flipped through its pages, pausing occasionally to laugh at the many pictures' occupants, and to marvel at how they ever coped looking like how they did back then.

There. She found it. Viranda Anderson.

_Not available for Picture Day – Kelly Adams, Viranda Anderson, Mike Batoche, Karen Tremblay._

No picture though, Hay Lin thought, disappointed. Closing the book, she called to tell her friends that there were no pictures of Viranda Anderson in the yearbook.

"Oh, that's cool then…" Will said through the phone.

"Listen, I know we feel like we know this girl and just couldn't place her and everything, but really, don't you think we're getting a bit too involved in this thing?" Hay Lin asked, frowning and fiddling with a loose strand from her t-shirt.

"I've been thinking the same thing. It's just… eh… Like, a sort of 'why should we care', and 'I don't know,' thing… No -- YOU COME BACK HERE!"

"What?" Hay Lin ask, perplexed at Will's sudden outburst.

"I'm babysitting my little brother today…" Will answered. Mrs. Vandom (or should she say Mrs. Collins) had announced to Will that she will have a baby brother as a graduation gift. Now, eight years from graduation, the little black haired ball of mischief was driving Will nuts every time she babysat him.

"Come on, it can't be that hard! You're almost four times his age! Surely you can take a seven year old!" the string she was fiddling with snapped.

"You don't understand! That thing can run so fast – NO! Get out of there – got to go, he's sticking his head into the washing machine again…"

"Bye Will," Hay Lin said, chortling at the mental image. She hung up the phone, and carelessly threw the yearbook in the direction of her bookcase. Standing up, she yawned.

Now what is she supposed to do?

The yearbook hit her bookshelf, and a split second later, all of its contents spilled out onto the floor. Hay Lin ignored this, and dug her planner out from the rubble. She flipped to today's date.

LECTURE TODAY, Four PM.

Right there, in big bright red letters.

She checked her watch, and ran out the place faster than she can scream any obscenities, or curse god.

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Wet sneakers slapped the rain sodden mud as Hay Lin ran for a safe sanctuary. Her breath misted before her eyes. It had started raining again despite the promise of good weather earlier in the day.

It was weird. Her breath is misting in September. It was extremely strange for Heatherfield to be so cold so quick. Normally this temperature occurs in around November. Sometimes not even.

No thinking. Just run. It'll be quicker.

Hay Lin bit her lip. Her throat hurts a bit from the running. She shivered from the cold, and raised her head to squint through the rain.

Bingo. She spotted her destination. It was still about… five more minutes of intense sprinting. She sucked in a deep breath and continued to run, cursing her bad luck silently. She burst into the lobby precisely five minutes later, soaking wet and panting.

It was a Saturday, and it was raining. What the university system was playing at, she did not know. They made all the students of the arts department come to the lecture hall on Saturday because some old, important art historian was dropping by and giving a lecture. They insisted it's because they did not want anyone to miss this 'wonderful learning opportunity', but Hay Lin knew that it was just good for business.

And apparently, if you miss this lecture, you get twenty percent off of your final grade. So Hay Lin had no other choice but to go.

She jabbed the up button to call the elevator. The lecture hall was on the tenth floor. Teeth chattering, she made sure that no one else was in the vicinity before summoning some wind to dry herself out a bit so she didn't look too pathetic.

Elevator was on the fourth floor…

The feeling you get when you're waiting for something, and the time stands still? Hay Lin was having that feeling. She felt like time was working against her. She was five minutes late as it is, and any later than fifteen minutes would result in her being locked out. Ten minutes to run from the first floor to the tenth is, well, possible, but impossible if this elevator doesn't get moving.

Elevator on the third…

Goddamn it's slow today, Hay Lin thought, using a sort-of swear word in her head this time with no remorse at all.

Second…

This elevator better have an ass-load of people in there, or there is no reason for it being so slow, Hay Lin seethes, using a real swear word this time.

Elevator on the first floor. It opened to show no people. Stepping in, she jabbed the button with the number ten on it. The doors slowly slid closed, and she kicked the walls of the elevator to relieve some tension. It did nothing but give her an ache in her big toe and a fresh string of swear words issued from her mouth. When the elevator finally arrived at the tenth floor, Hay Lin stepped out damp, shaking, and in a rare stage of bad temper.

Could be worse.

The sound of the door opening echoed through the lecture hall. It was packed with last minute students just like Hay Lin – wet, swearing, in a bad mood – all already seated neatly. Hay Lin casted a nervous glance at the professor (who was staring at her disapprovingly), and found an empty seat closest to the door. The professor continued talking.

"Wassup?" a voice whispered in her ear. Turning around, she found out it was Craig, her sort of friend. Ish. It wasn't exactly easy to make friends in university take it that all the students do is listen to lectures, write essays, and occasionally stand in front of a big easel and slap paint aggressively onto the unsuspecting canvas. The only way they even know each other was out of sheer accident – it ended with everyone covered in oil paint and several hundred dollars of damage. Canvas was expensive, apparently.

"Don't talk to me," she muttered, burying her face in her cold hands, tuning out the stupid speech.

"Geez, No need to be mean. It's just raining a bit."

Okay, Hay Lin thought, so she's really wet. No need to rub it in. She ignored Craig, and asked a completely different question.

"So who's this high and mighty art historian that's so important the freaking school has to drag us in here on a Saturday?"

"Hell if I know. You're not very happy today, are you?"

She knew immediately how weird she must look without the usual big perky, cheery grin that came pre-packaged with her, but she was in no mood to grin at the moment. Her clothes were dripping wet, and the rain weighed down her black locks so much that they were coming out of her ponytail. If there were a desk in front of Hay Lin, she would've gladly banged her head against it in a (probably) vain attempt to knock herself out.

She ignored Craig again, and reached inside her bag again to pull out something to occupy her time while the professor rambled on and on. He reminded Hay Lin forcefully of Mr Sheffield, and his _very_ interesting and _very_ long speech he gave on Pumpkin day every single year Hay Lin and her friends studied at Sheffield, and actually bothered to go to the assembly. Her fingers brushed past her sketchbook, note pad, three magic markers, and finally she found it. She took out the tiny Blackberry device and opened the menu. Craig prodded her.

"You know it's not exactly courteous to turn on electronics during a presentation, right?" He said, with a sad attempt at imitating a schoolteacher.

"You would rather listen to that?" Hay Lin shot back, indicating the professor who looked as if he would like nothing better than to get down on his knees and start licking the shoes of the 'Art Historian' he kept on rambling about. _He went to Stanford blah blah blah._

Craig snorted, "That's bullshit," he said, and he pulled the tiny screen closer to get a better look. They spent the next hour and a half playing games, while the professor rambled on with his introduction, which to put it all together took two hours.

It wasn't until the professor stopped talking that the air tells Hay Lin something peculiar lurking just outside the lecture hall door. She dropped the Blackberry into Craig's eager hands and turned swiftly as the sound of the doors opening reverberated through the hall.

At first, she couldn't see anything. The never turned off fluorescent lights of the building blinded everything else. When the doors closed again, Hay Lin caught herself staring at a bald man. The man seemed to have sensed her gaze and turned sharply. Calculating brown eyes met grey ones as their eye contact was maintained. Recognition stirred behind both eyes, until –

Hay Lin tore her eyes away from Riddle's. Her head was pounding as if someone had just mentally slapped her. She rubbed her head, as if that'll make him go away.

_What the hell is he doing here? Didn't the Oracle erase his memories?_ She wondered inwardly. Riddle was a psychic agent from Interpol who was sent to find out about the Guardians, which meant Hay Lin and her friends were in danger of being discovered. At least, it was before things got out of hand when he hypnotized Will's Astral Drop (almost exact copy of Will) and shipped her off to Interpol. The Oracle had intervened and wiped everyone except for Astral Will's memory.

He should've forgotten all about it and kept to his job at Interpol, off doing some other freak-o investigation on the Loch Ness Monster or something. Even if he didn't, it was at least seven years ago, why would he suddenly appear like that? What the hell is he doing here as an Art Historian anyway? Hay Lin was sure he recognized her – the air has told her that clearly.

The thing she feared most is that if the Oracle by some chance had made some sort of flaw and accidentally left Riddle out of the mind wipe. She knew that accidents do happen, and even the Oracle the all-knowing, god-like seer can too make mistakes.

"Shit shit shit…"

"WOO-HOO! LEVEL SIX!"

Craig had just announced loudly to the whole auditorium that he had beaten level five.

Everyone simultaneously turned, stared and laughed while Craig hurriedly pushed the small device into Hay Lin's hands and attempt to look innocent. She couldn't help but smile wryly at his horrible acting skills while shoving the incriminating device into her sweater pocket.

"That's a big chunk out of my mark," he said, sinking lower and lower in his seat.

"You're never going to be an actor," she informed him as soon as the laughter died down, which took a while.

"No shit. That's why I'm not in the screen arts. See?"

He did not dare to ask Hay Lin for the Blackberry again, not that Hay Lin would've heard him anyway. She was too intent on whatever Riddle has got to say in case there was a clue to his sudden reappearance. She has long since abandoned any hope of contacting the girls – they were too far away and school doesn't get any kind of wireless connection so she couldn't call them or e-mail them. Instead, she got out her mp3 player and hit the record button on the side of the player so she would record every word Riddle said.

"Hello everyone, as you know from the presentation speech, my name s Inimical Riddle," Riddle started, leaning on the podium, "The reason why I'm here is because I wish to educate and enlighten the futures of the artistic community about the past, which is not to be forgotten. In this conclusive study on ancient artwork from fifty different primitive civilizations, it is easy to conclude…"

It was decidedly boring and banal. Hay Lin tried hard not to doze off. After the initial shock has worn off, it was extremely hard to pay attention because Riddle's voice is so damn flat.

"Do you ever wonder why all professors are so boring?" Craig wondered aloud with his chin resting on his fist.

"What came first, the chicken or the egg?" Hay Lin asked back, making it clear that it was probably a law of the universe.

"Yeah, that is true… I hope this isn't on our final exam…"

"What, they might put this on?" Hay Lin's eyes widened. Everyone in the course is going to fail if that was the case.

"Theoretically they shouldn't. But you never know, the professor is a historian-worshipping … person."

"Argh."

It was now that Hay Lin realised that nearly everyone in the hall was in some sort of sleep. Some are really asleep, while others are just zoning in and out. Some are even _snoring_.

She never wished so much in her life to have Cornelia's power to manipulate time.

Five hours later, it was over. Craig shoved Hay Lin out of the lecture hall despite her protests of wanting to stay for five more minutes to spy on Riddle, just to make sure she was not high on something and hallucinated that he recognised her. Before she could shake Craig off and loop back into the lecture hall, two other course mates, Darlene and Stan, ambushed them.

"That was the most _boring_ speech I've ever heard. The Aztecs? All they had was these ugly-ass wood figures…" Darlene started complaining right away.

They stepped out of the university into the weak after-shower sun. It was a chilly day. Hay Lin wanted to double back and tail Riddle, but she couldn't really think of a way that would not cause suspicion.

.

"I have to go to work," Darlene said, pouting heavily, "That asshole Dave still haven't paid me yet…"

"I'm going to the skate park," Stan replied nonchalantly, stepping onto his skateboard at ease, "all my buddies are there, and we're probably getting pizza later."

Hay Lin bit back a comment about how Stan is twenty-three years old and that most people that hang out at skate parks are usually aged fifteen to eighteen.

"I owned you all!" Craig yelled happily, "I have a date!"

Protests came from Darlene and Stan who indignantly stated that just because he had a date doesn't make the rest of his day better than any of the others. Hay Lin smacked her forehead. She shouldn't be here chatting; she should be investigating this whole Riddle incident…

"Come on Hay Lin, you must have something more interesting to do tonight that will put this guy to shame…" Darlene tugged on her arm.

Hay Lin, (who pondering over the situation with Interpol) wasn't exactly paying attention to the conversation, was caught off guard. Oh, yes I do. She almost said, If luck is against me, my friends and I will have to run to the centre of infinity and then fight whatever evil is threatening to destroy the universe.

"Um…I don't really have anything to do tonight… working, definitely, but other than that…"

She was broken off by Darlene's cough and meaningful look.

"Oh, never mind. I am doing something interesting, actually. We're going to go to Italy as a round the world in one day, then hacking the Interpol's database to spy on people, " Hay Lin said matter-of-factly, grinning to make sure they knew that she meant that as a joke even though Will probably will have to do the second part.

"Aw, damn it," Craig hung his head.

Stan left shortly after they walked past the skate park, jumping onto his skateboard and waving merrily goodbye to all three of them. By then it had really started to get dark, and a stop in Starbucks, the coffee house where Darlene worked temporarily was a relief. Darlene however, looked completely miserable taking the orders of 'Dave' who apparently doesn't pay her enough, and went off to different directions.

Craig and Stan decided to stay for a coffee, so Hay Lin left after waving good bye to them. Thankful that she managed to be alone at far last, Hay Lin dug around in her bag for her cell phone. Seeing as fifty minutes have passed, she didn't really see any point in doubling back to the university to tail Riddle. She called Irma first, simply because Irma probably wouldn't laugh if it did turn out that she was hallucinating about Riddle.

Okay, so maybe she would laugh. But Irma was still Hay Lin's best friend. After seven rings, the nasally, annoying operator voice came out of the phone: "The customer you are calling is unavailable at the moment, please try --"

Irma was probably on the subway, Hay Lin reasoned. She dialled for Cornelia, who seemed either to be not home or didn't feel like picking up the phone. Taranee was unreachable as well, probably because of a busy day at work. Finally, she dialled for Will. When she didn't pick up, Hay Lin was dumbfounded. Where _is_ everyone? Will should've answered the phone because since she was the owner of the Heart of Candracar, her cell phone is never closed or runs out of batteries. The fact that she seldom rides the subway also makes it rather strange.

Hay Lin flipped her phone cover shut, biting her lower lip and frowning. An eerie silence had fallen over the street. The air was telling her something's nearby. Upon turning around and finding nothing, she quickened her pace and went home in a haze of thoughts. Of course, first things first -- find Will, and persuade her computer hack into the Interpol database.

**To make a few points clear – Clara, Darlene, Stan and Craig are all random people, with random names, m'kay? They are sort of based on my friends. Whether they do or don't have significance, it's your choice. And no, these are not my friends' names. I put names in a hat and drew them out XD. Really.  
**

**And Will's little brother? I wrote about that before I found out that she DOES get a little brother later in the comics. Turns out he has straw blond hair though. **** Like Collins. --;;. Oh well. In MY story, he has black hair, like Susan.  
**

**Riddle comes in the third arc of WITCH. Wikipedia, peoples!**

**Since WITCH is about 23-5ish in the story, they CAN cuss when I want them to. There's a reason why this thing is rated T (that, and the guns) :D. Have YOU ever seen a 24 year old who doesn't cuss in informal places? I didn't think so.**


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